


Rabid Cop

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Crimes & Criminals, Murder, Police, Revenge, Trick or Treat: Trick, Werewolves, howling at the moon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-07-29 09:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16261508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: He had been fairly acquitted by a jury he bought off after the Prosecution's star witness suffered an unfortunate accident.  Things were sure looking up.  Unfortunately for him, someone else involved in the case was quite disappointed with the verdict, and had some plans.





	Rabid Cop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shoulder_Devil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shoulder_Devil/gifts).



Jason straightened his tie in the mirror, flashed a smile.  He looked good.  Felt good too, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, sword of Damocles stopped being dangled over his head.  Tonight was a night to paint the town red.

He backed away from the mirror, trailing his fingers against the wall as he headed towards the living room.  Quint, his bodyguard sat on the couch, reading a magazine.  One of his bodyguards.  A man of his stature could never be too careful about personal safety, especially with the nasty rumors swirling about him.  “Ready to go boss?”

“Yep.  Mason at the car?” Jason asked, and Quint nodded at the mention of his other bodyguard-cum-driver.  Mason was the best driver ever.  So many drivers in this town were unsafe—Hell, the prosecution’s star witness in the trial had died from a hit-and-run accident right before she was scheduled to testify.  Mason was the best driver.  That reminded Jason.  “Has the shop gotten back about the Jeep’s front bumper?”

Quint shook his head.  Not only would the Rolls have been too easy to connect back to him, but that car was a work of art.  “Shop said the cop was nosing around.  Told her to get a warrant.  Still working on the dents”

“Talbot?  That rabid bitch had gotten herself suspended when she tried to assault me after the verdict.  Apparently she didn’t take losing the case very well.”  Detective Talbot had done a lot of work to fuck him over, got a lot of people who should’ve known better to agree to testify, convinced the DA to bring charges.  All those witnesses recanted after the ‘victim’s’ car accident, but he’d still have to do a little housecleaning one of these days.  He smiled.  “I’m thinking I might toast to her efforts, though.”

He walked his way to the garage, Quint trailing behind.  He’d definitely be thinking of Talbot when he picked the night’s entertainment from the dozens of women at whatever club he ended up at.

That thought was lost to him when he opened the door to the garage and his jaw dropped.  Mason was laying on the hood of the car, throat torn open, blood splattered all across the room.  A big hand fell on his shoulder—Quint’s, and they both backed away from the sight.  Darkness fell on them as they regrouped in the living room—the power had been cut.

Jason swore and, hands groping for the wall, made his way over to the kitchen—he never actually cooked there, but there was a Maglite on the island in the center of the room.  He fumbled in the darkness until his hand grasped the heavy flashlight.  When he returned to the living room, he saw Quint staring out the window. 

He walked over to him and looked over his shoulder.  Silhouetted against the moonlight was something large and dark, hunched over.  He raised his flashlight and illuminated a massive dog—wolf.  It’s pelt was mainly grey, but it had red spots.  It raised it's big head and howled loudly, then bounded from the table it was sitting on to right in front of the window, moving from all fours to standing on it’s hindlegs, over seven feet tall.

Then it slammed through the glass.

Quint died with its jaws around his throat.

The gun clattered to the floor, and Jason scrambled to pick it up.  Fifteen rounds in the mag—more than enough to kill anything.  Jason leveled it at the beast and pulled the trigger.  It let out a pained howl and staggered back.  He shot it again, and again, and again, and it fell backwards.

When the gun was empty and the thing was still, he took a step closer, leveled the flashlight at it.  The thing was a fucking _werewolf_?  That was ridiculous, but is hindfeet were a dogs, but his arms ended in hands, with thumbs and everything.  Jason didn’t know enough anatomy, but the general shape of it was humanlike, even if there was fur and a tail.  The head was a wolves though, yellow teeth flecked red, long snout, one yellow eye visible.

The eye focused on him and narrowed, and the thing sprang to his feet.  Jason screamed as a big hand around his throat lifted, then slammed him back down.  He tried to pick himself up, but with one hand on his throat, the other on a thigh, both impossibly strong, he couldn’t break the grip.

Then the teeth dug into his belly and he screamed the head came up holding the gray loops of his intestines. The dog's eyes met his for what seemed like an eternity, before she started to thrash her head, tearing into the meat she had pulled.

* * *

Sergeant Rodriguez stood at the front entrance to the house, waiting while the crime scene technicians took pictures behind him.  He’d been the first on seen after police responded to the address, and regretted it.  This was the sort of thing that he would’ve preferred a little forewarning on.

No nearby neighbors, although people did report seeing a large dog loose late last night or early in the morning.  There were a series of gawkers assembled outside, and Rodriguez frowned as he saw a familiar redhead in a black tee and jeans push her way through them.

“Thought you were suspended?” Rodriguez said as Detective Talbot flashed her badge and stepped into the house.  He didn’t move to stop her, even if officially he should have.  Couldn’t really blame her for what she did.

“I was.  Just sightseeing.” She offered.  The gigantic sunglasses she was wearing made it hard to suss out her mood.  Or it would have, except she wore he rmood on her sleeve.  “Who’s taking the lead on this?”

“Waslewski.” Rodriguez nodded, and Talbot frowned.  They’d had words in the past.

“Speak of the devil.” Talbot muttered as the tall man approached.  She forced a smile and said “Hi Dave.”

Detective Waslewski returned a frown and said.  “Thought you were…”

“Suspended, yeah, we covered that.” Talbot said, peeling off her sunglasses and closed them, clipping them to the collar of her shirt.  Rodriguez noted her eyes were bloodshot, with dark bags underneath. She noticed his noticing and scowled "I'm not drinking again. What have we got, Dave?”

"Is this your case?" Waslewski asked.

She just glared at him. Rodriguez could tell Waslewski was doing the math in his head, what would end up more of a clusterfuck; getting her ejected from the scene here, or having a quick little conversation. Even if experience should've told him that nothing with Talbot was easy, Waslewski shrugged.

"Three vics.  All mauled by an animal--forensics say likely a dog."  The detective said.  “We have  hair samples have been sent to be analyzed.  Consistent with an unusually large wolf, like the others…”

“Others? This isn’t the first time it happened?” Talbot asked, tilting her head. As an afterthought, she added "In this case, I wholeheartedly approved.”

“Our boys ain’t that special special.  A few people up and down the city have ended up in the same straits, eaten alive by some large predator, probably canine.” Waslewski shrugged.  “All the victims with similar deaths were at least suspected of having less-than-legal connections. We've all had run-ins with them before. It's been making the news.”

"Haven't been watching a lot of T.V. lately. Been keeping myself busy until I'm back on the force." Waslewski didn't care enough to ask how she spent her days.

"I know you ain't interested in the bodyguards, so your 'friend' is right over there"

With exaggerated flourish, Detective Waslewski stepped asigde an gestured to the tipped over chair in the living room in the pool of blood.  Detective Talbot went over and crouched down and lifted the sheet, looking at the gap in the man’s guts that Rodriguez could _remember_ , even if he wasn't looking at it anymore.  You could see the spine; honestly that was almost the only connection the North and South had.

“Any leads on what happened?” She wasn’t supposed to be here.  But nobody stopped her.  She’d pulled in a lot of unpaid overtime helping build a case against the owner of this house, and rather than rotting in prison as he should have, the man died.

“Was apparently planning to hit up the town for a night out when this all happened.” Waslewski shrugged.  The emphasis he put on 'night on the town' indicated he wasn't terribly broken up that the animal attack interrupted the victim's plans.   “Way it looks, this time it took a lot longer than usual to go.  The guards had their throats chewed out, he started having his guts eaten before he bled out.”

“Any leads on who the perpetrator was?” She asked, scrutinizing Waslewski as he shrugged.  "C'mon Dave, wolves attacking underworld figures?  Here?  Has to be some weird gangland execution thing."

“We’re still looking at all possibilities.”

“So, no leads then.” Talbot said, smiling.  “Can’t say I blame you for not dredging anything up, do your actual job and brass’ll come down on your head like a goddamn anvil. Think it's a new player in town?”

“Maybe, or an old dog learned some new tricks” Wasewski said, scratching the back of his head.  “On that note, where were you last night? And what's your favorite breed of dog?”

Talbot's forced smile faltered into a scowl for a brief moment, before she shrugged and said “My apartment, alone—so no witnesses.  But Management doesn’t allow dogs.  More of a cat person anyway”

“Just checkin’.” Waslewski scribbled something in a notepad he pulled out of his coat pocket. 

“Think I had motive in this?” She asked as she craned her neck to see what he was writing. He quickly closed the notepad and put it in his pocket.

“Yeah.” Waslewski said bluntly, before adding “But almost everyone did--'Did you have a problem with our victim?' is useless in narrowing it down."

"Then why ask it?"

"Because the Commissioner’s gonna have my head if he learns let you onto my crime scene. Ain't your job, and you had a problem with the victim. Press finds out, given your reputation..." He trailed off, staring Talbot in the eye. "You don't have business here and confirmed he’s dead enough for you to celebrate outliving him, so...”

“Got it.  I’ll leave before you lose one of your merit badges, boy scout.”  She walked past Waslewski and Rodriguez and nodded slightly, as close to a ‘thank you for abandoning procedure to let me know facts that were completely irrelevant because it’s not my case’ as she could manage.  “Keep me posted though.  The case sounds interesting.”

“It is fucking bizarre.” Waslewski acknowledged, although not agreeing to share any more details with her.  "You’re into the spooky shit, right?  This case seems like one you’d really sink your teeth into.”

And Detective Talbot flashed a smile and left.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this was alright; I had set out to do something silly and then ended up on something that was serious except for too many cop show puns. I watched too much Lennie Briscoe-era _Law & Order_ for detectives to not be making deadpan jokes over mutilated bodies.


End file.
